After the Blizzard
by LuminereLucifer
Summary: Percy wants his proposal to Annabeth to be perfect, but can he get it right? One-shot.


o0oΩo0o

Percy was totally perplexed.

He was kind of glad that Annabeth had asked _him_ first around the time they got out of Tatarus, or else he would never have worked up the courage for this. Honestly, it'd be less daunting to face a dozen drakons. Simultaneously.

So, that explained why he was nodding distractedly as he meandered through the winter streets of Manhattan hand-in-hand with Annabeth, pulling nervously at his scarf, (a gift forced upon him by Aphrodite) his smile strained. It was the first Christmas since the seven had defeated Gaia, and everything felt more real somehow; the sound of his shoes on the icy pavement, the frigid wind through his hair. (He wished he'd brought a hat or something.) The crisp, delicious air felt wonderfully cool in his lungs, the scent of roasted chestnuts came from somewhere, and the city was uncharacteristically tranquil- maybe from the stillness that always came with the wintertime, or the fact that it was almost the middle of the night, he didn't know. Maybe they were in their own world entirely. If this was the case, it registered in Percy's mind that he didn't _care_. Annabeth looked, as always, stunning. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and her grey eyes shone as she chattered animatedly about trivial things; how school was going, the finishing touches she finally had time to add to Olympus...

So after the general light mood of the afternoon, he could tell she was confused when they approached the empire state building, which rose up from the city like a great, steel stalagmite. A wreath of flocculent clouds was wrapped around the needle that rose from the top, adorning it with a dense white halo, that blotted away the dimly shining stars. It made him think of Zoë, and then of Bob. He tossed the thoughts away. Not tonight.

Leading her through the maze of red velvet ropes- He was reminded of the labyrinth and couldn't help but wince and wonder what was wrong with him. Hopefully this reminiscing thing wasn't going to become a habit. The lobby was deserted, and their footsteps rang out like gunshots on the marble, fraying his nerves. Percy saw his girlfriend move to announce they were going to the 600th floor, but he shushed her quickly. The lobby was unusually empty- one of the reasons he'd arranged the event for one o' clock in the friggin' morning- it was either that, or to splash out on a VIP Pass.

"86th floor, please."

o0oΩo0o

The elevator ride took _exactly _fifty-eight seconds. Percy knew because he'd counted. Fifty-eight seconds of excruciating, uninterrupted silence, aside from the fuzzy, _bit-too-loud_ Frank Sinatra, as Olympus' biggest hero rocked on his heels, and wrung his hands, terrified, and Annabeth looked on, thoroughly bewildered. Then the doors opened and the blackness of night seeped in,

The city lights flickered faintly like gemstones, in a spectrum of red, white and gold, like micca on the walls of a cave, and Percy though of the underworld, and what was below it. But Annabeth murmured "Fireworks..." and an image of that big Hephaestus oaf Beckendorf blossomed in his head like an opening flower bud, and then came a memory of Selena's final stand, and then Ethan's, and Luke's... He gripped the railing with whitening knuckles. He needed to focus, he told himself, for once in his life.

"Annabeth-" he began, turning to look at her, but faltering instantly when he met her stormy grey eyes, flickering with concern. "I- I brought you up here to ask you something." He forced himself not to stare at the floor, and took a long drawn out, trembling breath. Breathing oxygen suddenly felt like trying to swallow the Phlegethon. "Will you-"

He suddenly realized he'd forgotten something, and fell to one knee.

"Will you m-"

His eyes widened, and he fumbled for a small velvet covered hinged box, which he brought out of his coat pocket. Flicking it open with one finger, the cat's eye opal he'd so carefully selected, the one perfectly set into a silver ring, the one that still wasn't good enough for her, that would never be good enough for her, shone and caught the light, sparkling like captured sunlight. Then her face broke into a smile, and it was like the sky had been lifted off his shoulders- no, _better_. And he would know.

"Annabeth Chase, will you marry m-"

But it was at that moment his hand slipped, and before he'd understood what had happened, the gem had bounced from the floor and fallen between the railings, with him grabbing uselessly for it on his hands and knees. It bounced off something metal with a high pitched _shiing, _and then was lost in the darkness like the terminal sighting of a shooting star.

His world imploded.

For a moment, although it might as well have been a lifetime, he was frozen, hand still stretched out through the bars, a look of uncomprehending horror on his face. The last few seconds replayed in his head so many times in just a couple of seconds, if he didn't know better he would've thought Kronos was messing with him. Then he stood suddenly, in one whiplash of movement. He wouldn't turn to look at the girl of his dreams, who was standing right behind him, probably looking utterly devastated and also fairly furious.

But then two arms had spun him around, and he heard a muffled "Of course, Seaweed Brain" before Annabeth's lips were on his.

And he wasn't sure what Khione's deal was, but he would later agree that the first snow (that fell, suspiciously enough, at that very moment) made it all the more perfect.


End file.
